The Wrangler and Ms Nameless
by atouchofprincecharming
Summary: When a mysterious woman wanders into town, a gruff wrangler becomes intrigued.
1. Introduction

**Title:** The Wrangler and Ms. Nameless  
**Rating:** PG.13/T  
**Author:** atouchof_princecharming  
**Summary:** When a mysterious woman wanders into town, a gruff wrangler becomes intrigued.  
**Spoilers:** Possibly a few from "Cowboys & Aliens", but nothing that gives the movie away.  
**Disclaimer:** Woodrow Dolarhyde, Percy Dolarhyde, Jake Lonergan, and any other character from "Cowboys & Aliens" belongs to its creators. All other characters belong to me.

* * *

[_Introduction_ - **"Shadows of his Cattle Ranch"** ]

She appeared to him in the darkness much like everything in his life. The mother of his child gone—dead from an unknown illness that swallowed her soul in the night so many years before. Their only child—his son, so drunk on power from being cruel to others he might as well not even exist.

There had been nothing left for him. His days were spent in the shadows of his cattle ranch where he stalked his workers with a icy stare. They never once did turn around to see if had his black eyes fixed on them for fear he would unleash his greatest weapon—a rifle he kept glued to his side.

He had never shot a man without a damn good reason, but they didn't need to know that. The business they were to have had to do with the jobs that had to be done; he never did leave room for anything else.

It had been a peculiar night when she had arrived. The usual stars were there in the western sky, but the colors were different and the air held a presence unknown to him.

He had taken his rifle with him because it took form with his hand more than he ever would admit. It hadn't just been at his side for his workers to fear him even more than they already had from his face alone, but it was there for his protection.

Everything he did that night had been done with gruffness only he knew how. From the moment he drew his gun forward and pushed the front of it inside the bushes he knew she was hiding behind of straight to the way he had physically blocked her from disappearing off his ranch.

And as that night faded and the dawn approached, he embarked on a journey he never once did dream of...


	2. Adjustments

[_Chapter 1_ - **"Adjustments"**]

"_Talk, damn it. Can't ya hear?!"_

_There hadn't been time for adjustments on her part because they remained unknown. On his part there hadn't been time because he made adjustments for no one. She was there on his ranch without any form of documentation and absolutely nothing to say._

_It drove him mad._

"_Who sent ya?" He was full of suspicion she could not understand. "Where'd ya come from?" He pressed; his rifle at his side while one hand held a knife and the other hand held an apple. "What'd ya come for?" He stilled his hand, the blade of the knife stopping right inside the apple's core. "Speak. Damn it, speak!"_

_She sat there in the far corner. Her eyes wide with wonder. Everything near her strange, everyone near her cold. 'Why had she been found there?' she had wondered after her first night there._

"_Ya don't speak. Ya won't eat." He muttered ruthlessly as he worked the knife through the fruit the rest of the a way. One half of the crisp apple he devoured in two greedy bites. The other half he placed on the wooden table to the side of him; his eyes challenging her to make any kind of sound._

_She did not because she simply could not._

* * *

_Percy knew his father was up to something and with just the right amount of liquor in him, he always found the courage to ask._

"_What's my good ole Pa up to these days?" He began one night as he drunkenly sat in tall grass that grew so close to the marker that divided his father's land._

"_Jesus, Percy." He growled as he began loading his gun. "Didn't I give ya orders?"_

"_To what? Tend to the cattle?" He began laughing stupidly. "Pa, I ain't got no business wrestlin' cattle. I'm too good for that."_

"_Good for nothin' piece of shit..." He snapped the gun close. "If your ma was here to see-"_

"_Yeah, well, she's not." His face now serious, but the corners of his mouth twitching with delight only brought on by booze and by power. "Ya saw to it, too-"_

"_...the hell ya talkin' 'bout?" His expression pained. "ya know damn well she had gotten ill."_

"_I never did see it, but I've heard the stories—sure."_

_He steadied his arm preparing for the rumble that would come after he pulled the trigger. When it was all over he stood there looking into the distance._

"_Ya know I never did understand the reason why ya fired all them bullets just to watch 'em go nowhere." He stood behind his father a little, his hand gripping drunkenly on his father's shoulder. "Ya say you've shot a whole mountain of men, but after seeing something like this?" He made a tsking sound with his tarnished mouth, "...ya just don't seem to be the type, Pa, 'cause all you're doin' is wastin' bullets."_

"_Quit talkin'!" He had grown tired. "Pull yourself together and git back to ya job."_

_He laughed unphased by his father's incredible disgust of him. "Sure, Pa." He snorted as he turned around and stumbled in the direction he knew like the back of his hand. "Whatever ya say, Pa."_

_He stood there watching his own blood relative wander aimlessly through the field like he wandered aimlessly through his life. It made his stomach turn, but his empty heart blocked any upchuck from spilling from his mouth. Turning around he fired a few more times before he began to feel the pressure on his shoulder._

* * *

_If she had had any idea of what being a prisoner felt like she might have felt that way on and off throughout the times she spent alone, free to roam around throughout the few rooms he had left open to her. There hadn't been any ball and chain attached to any part of her body nor had there been steel bars that decorated his windows, but there had still been something inhuman to the set-up he had left her to breathe in._

_It tore at his insides in small doses; split seconds of difficult shame, but his heavy heart and his narrow mind forced him him to remind himself of who she could be and what her purpose was for not only being on his land, but for making herself known to his naked eyes. She could be trouble and if there was one thing he did not tolerate, it was trouble—trouble against him and his people, whether they took honor in being related to him in any sense of the word or not._

* * *

_He had been forced to give her the apple when he had arrived home after he had gone shooting. The last thing he needed or wanted was a dead, unknown woman on his hands. He was sure he could dispose of her body without anyone from town seeing him, nor questioning him, but whatever that thing was inside of him—that thing that always served as a constant reminder to whatever that was left inside of him of being human, would haunt him—it would break him eventually, and he certainly could not have that. He certainly could not break._

_Percy was nowhere to be found inside or out. He hadn't grown alarmed, he knew his son spent enough time, enjoyably, hanging around the saloons and disrupting the peace to ever think about straying far from town He ruled the town respectfully with an iron fish, but his son ruled it shamefully with the family name._

"_Ya eat, but ya won't speak." He shook his head at her while striping off his coat. "...dunno what I'm gonna do wit ya..." He hummed to himself while hanging coat over a wooden chair. "...dunno how much more of this I can take..." He pulled at the bandana around his neck. It was dirty and damp with sweat. "Ya won't tell me your name. Ya won't do what I say—won't come when I call." He balled the material in his rough hands all the while looking towards the ground, his mud covered boots staring back at him. "I'm not gonna let ya go until ya tell me what ya came for." His tone was as rough as it had been earlier that day, but this time there had been a slight shakiness to it that indicated to him that he was nervous about this entirely new kind of situation whether she picked up on it or not._

_He turned to look over his shoulder. When he locked eyes with her, she held the same expression. This time though her lips had been parted slightly. It was the hunger for food—any kind of it so long as it was more._

_He turned his back to her. Ignoring his coat, he went over to a side door that had been part of the room. Pulling it open he disappeared from it and returned moments later with a few logs. Placing them inside his fireplace, he stuck a match against a stone and held it near to the dried leaves and dry twigs until they caught._

_Rolling his sleeves up, he disappeared into the other room. To him it was known as a kitchen, to her it had been known as a place where she could find water and some darkened liquid she had curiously kept away from. Using some water that had been left in a large glass jar, he scrubbed at his filthy hands. All the dirt and germs from a day out and about washed away from his skin and circled the rusty drain._

_Meal time had never been a problem in his household. He had the fresh meat of his own cattle. The juice from his own cactus. The vegetables from his own garden. The fruit from his own trees. The water from his own well. Never once had he ever gone hungry, at the same time, never once did he offer any of his richness to the poor._

_Now though, with the scent of his food cooking from the help of his water that he had ordered a few of his workers to fetch from his well in the blazing sun earlier that day, he had set out to feed someone who, for all he knew, was poor._

"_Go on. Eat it." He placed the bowl across from him on a wobbly wooden table he constantly reminded himself to fix. "It's good. Hot, but good." He commented on his own food without having tasted it yet. It was his ego that insisted that everything he took the time for was simply the best._

_She hadn't moved though, even as he chopped away at the contents of his own bowl._

"_I said go on—eat it!" His voice louder now. "Damn it..." He growled, leaving his bowl behind and grabbing hers along with the unsecured wooden table. "Ya don't deserve this." He said before setting it down in front of her, "But I ain't gonna watch ya starve—so go on, take it." He tapped the spoon a little. "Eat it."_

_She sniffed the air in front of her. After a second, she went to reach for the spoon. Taking it out of the bowl she looked at it curiously. She had seen him put it in his mouth every time he had stuck it in his bowl, so a moment later she did what she remembered seeing. To him she had gotten the message that the food had been for her, but in her mind she had felt as if a tiny window had been opened on the inside—one that allowed this knew found knowledge to breeze in and give her a bit of light._


	3. On the Edge of the Better Town

[_Chapter 3 -_** "On the Edge of the Better Town"** ]

_He could never do it all of his own despite how many times he declared that he could. If he had been successful in any form of that declaration then his son would have grown to be a decent human being. When he was younger he had hopes for him—even dreams, but as he began to grow taller and his mouth bigger, he knew he was quickly getting away from him._

_It was never that he couldn't see himself in his son. It was just that everything that had belonged to him that he could see had been intensified so that the evilness inside of him thrived, causing the good in him to cower away in the dark depths of his existence. He hadn't planned on raising him that way, but like many things in life—things just happened._

_So when she still hung low to the ground and hid herself as best as she could in the dark corners of his home after a week of her arrival—not making a single sound, he knew he had to find someone whom he could trust—or someone who would keep their mouths shut with the force of his iron fist, so he could find the answers he was obsessively trying to seek._

* * *

_At the edge of town where the land ran its driest lived a man and woman with their only living child. He went by the name of Harry Holt, his wife Margaret, and his eight year old son by the name of Clayton. They weren't considered part of the dark town though they lived on the very edge of it; using its land, but never taking anything else from it as the next town over held a certain warmth and glow that hadn't resided in Dolarhyde's land for quite sometime. To them, 'home was where the heart is' and anyone who had thought differently certainly hadn't made their opinions change; life was what they made it. It was as simple as that._

_The last thing he wanted to do was bother them. He had met them on a solo ride he went on with his best horse a decade and some odd years ago. Cattle he demanded be transferred to his land had come from the better land. A few of them went astray and he had lost his head; swearing to kill anyone in his path when he would find his missing cattle, but when he stood there facing the man and his family, he could see no evil in their kind eyes. He had also spotted his cattle, roaming free. He remembered how he tipped his hat at them before explaining who he was and what he had come for. Within seconds of his story, the man had offered to herd his cattle to its proper location, completely free of charge. Of course upon feeling his plump wife he assured him that he would get his own men to come the next morning to do a days work._

_He had reminded himself to check in on them from time to time, but he never did. He had always been too busy stretching the limbs of men who had done him wrong. Men who had taken the jobs he had given them lightly. Men who had tried to target his son knowing perfectly well that he knew of their frustrations, but that there was no way in hell he would make his son pay for his wrongdoings like a worthless piece of garbage._

_Sighing, he hopped off his horse and planted his boots firmly on the ground. Fixing his hat, he soaked in the burning sun. Seven hours of riding with only a couple of stops was far too little on such a hot day. When he reached the front door he used his knuckle to knock firmly. There he stood waiting; hoping that the silence meant they were catching a nap or that they were working somewhere on the land. The last thing, however, that he wanted, was to discover that they had crossed into the next town._

_He hadn't been allowed there since his wife was alive. His control meant nothing to them so the fear that pulsed within belonged to him alone. He wouldn't dare wander into the lions den in fear of never returning to the dark world he called home._


	4. Percy's Pistol

_[ Chapter 4 - _**"Percy's Pistol"**_ ]_

_He had ridden back into the heart of town with supplies he would need to make her stay with him as comfortable as it could ever be. Harry had told him that within two weeks he would take his family with him with expectations of being put up for all the days and nights they would stay close to him—they would help him explore the unknown woman; they would help him get his answers._

_Harry hadn't been the only person around that could offer him help, but he was the only one that would keep it all a secret. He was the only one that has respected him from the beginning because he understood his reasoning for living the way he did, and he was the only one to genuinely like him for the person he was._

_Percy was a sorry excuse for a human being in the town's eyes, but nobody could touch him. So as he stood there in the middle of the dirt road, he aimed his gun foolishly at a few of the townspeople. Wailing like a spoiled brat, he spoke of his father and how there was nothing he couldn't have or get—from anyone, because of his connection._

"_Jackass." Muttered an annoyed deputy. "Sit down, Percy, before you fall down..." He paced casually in front of the saloon doors._

_He erupted into a drunken laugh. "I ain't gonna fall down, but I'll ya what, Deputy...if anyone's gonna fall to their knees it'll be because I put 'em there." He waved the gun around; his finger slightly pulling back on the trigger just to get a few gasps out of those that surrounded him._

"_Goddamn it, Percy, put down that pistol!" He barked. "Ya keep messin' 'round and you're gonna find yourself in a whole heap of trouble."_

"_Yeah? Who says—you?" He wailed with silliness. "I know ya know who my Pa is-"_

"_Your daddy won't be able to save ya this time. I'll see to it." He took a step towards. "I'm warnin' ya Percy. Ya make one more wave wit that pistol and you'll be held up in the county jail for longer than ya think."_

_A surge of anger cruised through him. He gritted his teeth and fired away at the Deputy's feet. "HA!" He slurred with laughter and drunkenness. "That's right Deputy—get on the good foot!" He pulled back on the pistol again and fired again. "Go on! Get on the good foot!"_

_A few women shrieked wildly as they ran for cover. A few men stood, without any weapons, unsure of what to do besides protect any women and children they could see._

"_GODDAMN IT PERCY!" The deputy hollered. "CUT THE SHIT BEFORE YA DO SOMETHING STUPID!"_

_He dropped the gun to his side and giggled. "Ya should have seen your face, Deputy..." He raised his arm again and without thinking, he pulled back on the trigger. The bullet that escaped from the mouth of his gun hit the deputy right in the shoulder. Falling to the ground, he groaned in pain. "Oh..." He was at a loss of words and momentarily he felt as if he lost his senses. "No..." He shook his head as he dropped his pistol the ground, watching as those that were nearby ran over to help the deputy. "I didn't mean it..." He said more to himself than to them. His mouth opened slightly—his eyes held more shine. "Look, everybody..." He began as he noticed the rest of the law riding in on their horses, "I didn't mean it. I swear I didn't."_

"_Ya could have killed him, Percy." Said another deputy who climbed down from his horse. "Or anybody else here." He roughly grabbed him by the shoulder. "In ya go." He pulled him along to the wagon they had brought with them._

"_I swear I didn't mean it!" He wailed._

"_Always messin' 'round. I always knew you'd end up like this." He commented._

_Perfect opened his mouth in disbelief as he tried to force himself away from his rough handling. "You know of my Pa is-"_

"_Everybody knows your daddy." He jerked him forcefully making sure that his body slammed against the side of the wagon. "You broke the law, son."_

"_Yeah well, my Pa'll ask about me. He'll come for me!"_

"_Anything your daddy says won't hold any water. Not this time, Percy. Ya shot a man with the intention to kill."_

_His fear eating away at him. "No! That ain't true! Damn it, it ain't the truth!" He tried to wrestle his way outside of the wagon, but the steel door was slammed shut and he was caged like a wild animal, the rusty bars being the only view he had to the outside world._

"_Save your breath, Percy." Offered the Deputy who paused to look at him._

"_Clinton!" He hollered as he pulled against the bars. "Tell my daddy about this—won't you? Won't you please tell my daddy about this?!"_

_He paused for a moment. After a slight breeze sailed past him, he gave him a small nod. "I'll tell him."_


End file.
